An Interesting Man
by ThisShipSailsItsSelf
Summary: Mycroft's POV. A companion to 'A Complex Man.' A look at the bond between Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade.
1. Chapter 1

**An Interesting Man**

Mycroft settled his face into a neutral mask as the door opened, but did not look up until the Detective Inspector harrumphed in mild annoyance.

"Come off it Mr. Holmes, I know how you do enjoy a power play, but if you expect me to drag my arse down here just to watch you do paper work-"

"Please have a seat." Mycroft cut in smoothly. He mentally chided himself for a brief moment, he should be less surprised by now about the aging cops ability to observe. Not quit a Holmes, but still rather impressive. "Since you are feeling so eager, we'll cut right to the chance." He paused for a moment. "John Watson."

Lestrade struggled for a minute, and Mycroft could practically see the light bulb go off above his head when he finally put the name to the face. "Oh! The man Sherlock brought to the Cabbie Case we just wrapped up. I assume you've sorted out the whole 'gee-I-wonder-who-could-possibly-have-fired-that-b ullet-definitely-not-the-retired-ex-soldier-conven iently-at-the-crime-scene thing?"

Mycroft had to stop the smile that threatened to break through, though he did permit a little of the warmth to hang about his eyes as he replied nonchalantly, "hmm? Yes of course. That's hardly the issue here."

A long pause ensued, but Mycroft did not elaborate.

"Alright, I'll bite. So what _is._"

"I believe John has decided to continue his association with my brother."

"Is that Holmes-speak for Sherlock's made a friend?"

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. "It would seem so."

"Well that's good though, isn't it?" Lestrade smiled wide. "A little socialization. Presuming Sherlock doesn't frighten him off. So why all the fuss of a meeting?"

Mycroft found himself pausing yet again. He would need to pick his next words very carefully. No sense giving away anything bordering on the sentimental. Lestrade was a good man, but even good men have the power to break you if you give them the means. Finally, he spoke, "Doctor Watson killed a man today. And he held his wits with me despite my… tactics. He's a man to be taken seriously, regardless of the extenuating circumstances."

"Extenuating circumstances being that he did those things to protect your brother." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." He answered anyways.

"And you're not happy to be rid of the job because…?"

Mycroft had to force down the sick, churning feeling that scenario caused before answering evenly, "There is no such thing as 'rid of the job' inspector." There couldn't be. Not if he wanted a reason to get up every morning.

Lestrade gave him a critical look that would have set anyone but a Holmes fidgeting in their seat.

As it was Mycroft merely continued serenely, "My dear brother, as you well know, is wild, unpredictable, and impulsive."

"Yeah, he's mental alright." Lestrade agreed, somehow managing to make the admission sound both resigned and terribly fond. "But John seems pretty normal. Tame almost. Might just be he's the good influence that makes the difference."

Mycroft paused. The DI had spoken true, of course, but that was the worst of it. "Perhaps, we shall see. Keep an eye on them would you?" He nodded at the door.

"I don't work for you, you know." He huffed. "I'm not some employee to be beckoned and sent packing whenever you please."

"I have never claimed you were."

Lestrade nodded, then asked, seemingly against his will, "What _would_ you call us then?"

No hesitation. "Colleagues."

"Funny, that's what Sherlock called John, when he introduced him, I mean. Well… goodnight to you, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft stared at the retreating form, which luckily didn't look back to see him positively gaping. He snapped his mouth shut and returned the nicety, "Goodnight, Detective Inspector."

Gregory Lestrade certainly was an interesting man.

**A/N Back writing Mycroft! Always a treat :) And finally Lestrade as well! I'm afraid I'm as insecure as always about whether or not I've captured them right, so hopefully this felt in character to everyone!**

**This might be a one-off or it might be a series of vignettes… I dunno anymore I've given up on trying to predict haha either way this is in-universe with A Complex Man. If you want a more in-depth look at Mycroft's motives, that's the place to look!**

**P.S sorry it's been so long! I've had like, 6 different fic's in the works that I have barely touched because of school being so crazy right now :s I'm going to try and do better though so hopefully you'll hear from me again soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Gift**

Mycroft was not the least bit surprised when the door burst open to reveal a shabby looking and positively livid Detective Inspector.

"Did you know?" Lestrade spat at him the moment the door and clicked shut.

"Know what?"

"That this was coming!" The irate man sputtered, further incensed by the tranquillity of the man sitting in front of him. "That Sherlock was-" He faltered.

Mycroft had no such trouble, "That he was planning to jump off a roof? Obviously not."

The already suffocating tension in the room peaked as Lestrade gaped at the man.

"How can you… how can you be so fucking calm! He's your brother! Your little brother! And now he's gone!"

"Was."

"What?"

"He _was _my brother. Former. As in, _no longer_."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! You sit here in your fancy fucking private room, in your fancy fucking club, drinking your fancy fucking brandy correcting me on my fucking grammar when your god-damn selfish asshole brother just swan dived off a fucking building!"

"Language Lestrade. Please."

"Sod off!" He shouted, storming towards the door.

Mycroft waited a beat, using the moment to quickly scan through his prepared speech, checking for any fallacy or folly. He found none, naturally.

"It wasn't your fault you know." He began, and was gratified to see the older man stop in his tracks.

"What?"

"There was nothing you could have done." Lestrade turned around at that, his expression wary and guarded, but he couldn't hide the surprise in his eyes. Not from a Holmes.

Mycroft continued, "Sherlock would've understood better than anyone the position you were in, the pressure your superiors were putting on you. You had to arrest him. He would not have held that against you. And furthermore, there was no way for you, for anyone, to know what he was planning. My brother was, in all things, cunning, impulsive, and deceptive. There was nothing anyone knew about my brother that he did not allow them to know. Myself being, perhaps, the only exception."

Mycroft watched as the words slowly registered, and Lestrade's shoulders slumped. He allowed himself a brief moment of triumph. His speech had been intended as a gift, and the Detective was obviously the better for having received it.

He waited for the next part of the scene to play out as expected. Lestrade would nod at him, then head home, sad, tired, but unburdened. His-false- belief that Sherlock's actions were a result of his own inferiorities having been wiped away by Mycrofts words. His anger too, would be lessened, having been spent at Mycrofts purposeful and false calm.

In short, Mycroft would be left alone with his worries of a vengeful Sherlock, off to infiltrate the seediest and most dangerous organizations possible. Ironic, that years of careful observation borne out of concern for his younger brother had undoubtedly given said brother all the training he would need at avoiding detection. Sherlock would be like a ghost, impossible to track, even for Mycroft. His little brother would be utterly on his own. And by extension, so would he.

Mycroft was startled out of his reverie by the scrape of the chair. Lestrade had taken the seat across from him, and had a glass in hand. This was definitely _not_ in the script.

"Well, come on then, no sense in either of us drinking alone." Lestrade said, holding his glass out. "The ex-wife will really have one over me if she catches wind and decides I'm an alcoholic or something. Use it as an excuse to sweep the kids off to god knows where and never come back."

Ah. _Of course_. As always, the Detectives instincts were sharp. He had apparently figured out that Mycrofts calm was an act, though he was still in the dark about the true cause of his distress. It seemed Lestrade was giving him a gift as well. Companionship, and a feasible excuse for it. He was being _kind._

"Come now, Lestrade, you underestimate me. You really think I'd allow that kind of paperwork to go through?"

Lestrade laughed. _He'd made the man laugh_. That was rare indeed. So rare it threw him off, made him wish, just for a second, that the moment wasn't tainted by the lie of it all. Made him wish he could divulge his true worries, perhaps receive comfort. That would be a first for him.

But the moment passed, and he merely allowed a smile to stretch his features for a moment as he poured the brandy into Lestrade's glass.

**A/N hello again! There may come a day when I do not gush over how much I love Mycroft every time I write Mycroft POV, but today is not that day! I just can't with him. And I love love LOVE the dynamic between him and Lestrade :D**

**So I had thought I might make one of these per episode or something, but then I started typing and this happened instead lol I'd like to keep going with this as long as the mood permits, but I'm curious whether people think I should screw order and go with my original plan of one per episode, in a random vignette style order or if I should keep going from this point forward? The latter would probably make for a shorter story but it would be interesting to see Lestrade react to the return of Sherlock so… yea I dunno I can't decide…**

**Anyways please review! It motivates me so much!**


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